Tomorrow There'll Be More Of Us
by Molf
Summary: John Laurens died for his country before he could see his best friend son. If only his last wish was granted. Philip never met his father's best friend. Well, he did, but not completely in the flesh. oneshot


' _Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was killed in a gunfight against the british troops in South Carolina'_

Alex's ears filled with white noise, blocking out s wife said next. It didn't matter anyway.

' _John Laurens was killed_ '

Nothing mattered. He gripped the bars of the crib in front of him, the wood creaking in protest. His son, whom he had been so focused on for the past days, he had forgotten his best friend in the, gurgled and looked up at his father quizzically.

' _Killed_ '

The word clanged on his ears like bells. He opened his mouth, waiting for his brain to provide the words he needed to fill the silence but his mind was blank. For the first time in his life Alexander Hamilton was speechless. _Talk less, smile more_. How ironic, he almost gagged.

"Alexander, are you alright?" Eliza's hand came down onto his shoulder, he shook it off.

"I have so much work to do."

With his back to the room, Alex didn't notice his son reaching out, as though grasping at thin air.

John Laurens was shocked, to say the least, when he first got stuck by the bullet. Though he was lying when he would die for his country, Heck he would shoot himself in the chest to protect his friends if he had too, he had never thought it would happen.

"I did not live to see our glory.", he muttered through the blood starting to pool in his mouth. Remembering back to the drinking song Hamilton once created after more than a few drinks, as he stood on the table, belting out lines he made up on the spot. Looking up at him, Laurens had seen the glint of passion in his eyes that he had ended up loving. "I'm glad I joined the fight…" he gasped. He saw one of his Sergeants rushing towards him, shouting something that was lost on Laurens, he smiled.

Now it came down to it, the bullet didn't hurt. It wasn't comfortable, far from it, but the unbearable pain he was expecting didn't come. He just lay there staring at the sky, seeing the light starting to fade into the distance, the pool of blood slowly turning his blue coat as scarlet as the coats of the enemy. He could feel the life starting to leave him and all he could think of was how he wished he had said a better goodbye to his friends. He wished he could have learnt more French with Lafayette, helped model clothes for Mulligan because he had 'the perfect body'. Above all he wished he had seen Hamilton's son. He looked like Laurens according to the letters, like he could be his son rather than his friend's. He had been hoping to be an uncle to him. Hamilton...he wanted to see Hamilton in his last moments.

'Alex…' he drew a breath that turned to his last.

 _I'm sorry…_

Philip gurgled, looking up at his father. Tilting his head to one side, he frowned, confused why his Dada was now glaring at the floor as though he was angry with it. He followed his gaze but the floor looked fine. Mama was saying something he didn't understand but she sounded sad. What had happen? Was Dada ill?

Maybe he was angry at Philip? Or the man that was standing by the window?

Said man was smiling down at him as he moved towards Philip's crib as Dada turned to leave, Mama trailing behind, leaning down to wiggle his fingers awkwardly in front of Philip's face. Philip giggled, batting at the hand, feeling a strange familiarity to the freckled, curly-haired man. A wide smile split his face and he crouched down so he was at the same level as Philip and spoke:

"Tomorrow there'll be more of us." he sighed, "Good job Alex."

John had ever expected that his dearest wish would come true, he gazed down at his best friend's son. He was still confused; he had died, he knew that but he had woken up, blinking in the light from the window. He had spotting Alex, Eliza and, John almost cried, what must be their son. Now, looking down at the laughing infant, John swore on his soul one promise.

"I promise on my final word, I will protect you."

* * *

***5 years old***

"Daddy! Daddy, look what I've found!" Philip hurried over to his father, his precious stone cradled in his hands. Hamilton didn't even glance away from his papers, quill still scratching away.

"Yes, Philip that's beautiful. Go and show your mother."

Eliza, who was standing right next to him, rolled her eyes. "Alexander." she said, through gritted teeth.

Hamilton jumped, then looked up at his wife, childish guilt tinkling in his eyes. She jerked her head towards their son who was waiting patiently.

As he turned his attention to Philip, Eliza snatched the quill from his other hand, he yelped slightly and pouted. "What have you got there Philip?"

From his position standing behind the boy, John sniggered. It seemed Eliza still had Hamilton wrapped round her finger.

Over the 5 years, John had become used to his situation, although it hurt him that Alex could not see him, realising it was his one chance to met Philip. In fact, he and Philip had become good friends in those years, his age being handy as his parents still thought he was too young to be actually listened too. Eliza and Alex assumed Philip just had an imaginary friend which would account for the times he had be caught 'talking to himself'.

"Daddy I found a fossil!" Philip beamed, holding the stone above his head for his father to examine. "It was at the end on the garden by the fountain!"

Hamilton reached down and plucked the stone from his hands, flipping it over in his ink spattered fingers. There was a small engraving on the back, that of a spider or small insect.

"Philip this is beautiful!" Eliza exclaimed, looking over his shoulder. "Did you find this all by yourself?"

Hamilton almost laughed at his pride his son was radiating, he smiled warmly and placed the stone back in the boys waiting palm. Philip clutched the stone tightly to his chest, "No, I had help, my friend found it!"

"Your friend?"

"Yes! John!"

John gasped, shaking his head frantically at Philip but the damage was done. Hamilton's face went blank, his eyes blocking off. Turning back to his paper, he stared down at the inky splotches, then muttered in an expressionless voice. "It's lovely, Philip. Go and play outside now."

Philip looked confused, glancing up at John then back at his father. "But-"

"Philip, go." Eliza said, suddenly harsh. Philip jumped, then scampered out of the room, dropping the stone to the floor in his haste to leave the tense room. She turned back to her husband. "Alexander-"

"Please go. I need time alone." he muttered shortly. A splash of water landed on his most recent work, Eliza rested a hand on his shoulder before she followed her son out of the door.

John came round to side in front of his friends oblivious face, reaching up a hand to try in vain to wipe away the trail of tears now trickling down the from the tired eyes.

"I miss you John."

It was so quiet John almost though he imagined it, he smiled sadly, resting his forehead against Hamilton's. "I miss you too, Alex."

* * *

***9 years old***

"I'm scared!" Philip ran his hands over the keys on the piano in front of him, scanning the sheet music in front of him. "What if he doesn't like it?"

John placed a steadying hand on to the trembling boy's shoulder, "It will be alright! I did used to be his best friend you know. Just say calm and be yourself!"

"But-"

"No buts. You know the words, and you have me here to help if you get stuck." John made shooing motions with his hands, encouraging Philip to his feet. He grudgingly stood, hands behind his back as he stared at the door, behind which voices could be heard.

"Your son is nine years old today, there's something he would like to show you." called Eliza's voice. The door to the music room opened to reveal Hamilton being lead by Eliza who had him by the arm. He had obviously just been working, his hands were still spattered with wet ink.

Eliza stopped just in front of Philip, "Philip, take it away!"

"Daddy daddy look!" he squeaked,

"My name is Philip,

I am a poet

I wrote this poem just to show it," Philip forced back a laugh, John kept making over exaggerated encouragement, waving his arms and pretending to clap, standing right next to his father.

"I just turned nine,

You can write rhymes but you can't write mine!"

"What?" Hamilton interrupted in disbelief, smile incredibly.

Philip looked shocked at the reaction and fumbled his next line looking to John pleadingly.

"I practice-" John started by Philip interrupted with a grin.

"I practice french and play piano with my mother,

I have a sister but I want a little brother!"

Hamilton chuckled, "Okay!" Even John laughed at the look of horror on Eliza's face but nothing was stopping Philip now he was in his flow.

"My daddy's trying to start America's bank,

Un deux trois quatre CINQ!" he yelled the last number with all he was worth, running to hug his father who looked shock at the sudden shout but still clapped, patting Philip's uncontrollable hair.

"Bravo!" he laughed, picking his son up and hugging him tightly, "Our kid is really great!" He said to Eliza, making him positively glow with happiness as he clung to his Father neck.

"That he is!" Eliza took Philip by the hand and lead him to the door, "Well done Philip that was beautiful, now why don't you go and play outside? I have some things to discuss with your father."

Though Philip didn't know what 'things' his mother was talking about, her tone was unmistakable. He hurried off, and John, who didn't really want to stay when the eldest Hamilton were 'discussing things', followed him.

Philip was sitting on the grass, in his favourite spot, next to the fountain, tearing up pieces of grass as though each strand had done him a great personal wrong. John settled down beside him, staying silent to give Philip enough space to collect his thoughts.

"I wish they would stop that." he said finally after about 5 minutes.

John knew what he was talking about, the Hamilton parents had been arguing on and off for more than a week now, since they had found out Angelica was going to be coming over to visit within the next few day. But John thought it best for Philip to explain. "What do you mean?"

"The fighting all the time, I'm hardly getting any time with father at the moment! He's always either working in his office or in a bad mood so he won't talk to anyone. Even Angie is getting less attention from Mother! Apparently, he wasn't this bad before I was born. Sometimes I worry its my fault, maybe its because of me Father has to work so hard, maybe-"

John put up a hand to stop the flow of self accusation, "Let me hold you right there! It was in no way your fault, in case it think it was because of you that Hamilton spends the time he does with his family. I remember the life he spoke with when he found out Eliza was pregnant." he chuckled remembering the frantic cheerful letters he had received a few days before his…

"It was because of you, wasn't it?" Philip's voice cut through John's memories like a heated knife, burning as it went. The nine year old looked at him with eyes that seem to old for his face. "Father always works when he's really upset. You died just after I was born, you dying made him work more. It's because he's still not over you."

John closed his eyes, tears prickling behind his eyes. "Yes."

The silence stretched between them, tense as a tightrope on which neither wanted to trend.

Suddenly, Philip put his arm around John's shoulder, though he couldn't touch John, he held it there as the grown man began to cry.

* * *

***15 years old***

Philip stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him. With a strained cry, he tossed himself onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He pressed his fingers into his eyes through the pillow in an attempt to push the tears back in and deny their existence.

"Philip? What-"

Philip turned abruptly, snatching a book from the side table and hurling across the room. Then he slumped against his pillows once more.

John, who had been the speaker, sighed as the book flew through his chest and hit the wall behind him with a dull thunk. He looked down at it, it was one of Philip's favourites. Laurens remembered Hamilton's joy at his child's choice, gloating to his friends about how smart his son would soon be.

John walked over to the bed, sitting down next to Philip's sprawled figure, though he made no indentation in the mattress. He tried again.

"Philip, what has happened?" he said as calmly as he could.

Philip's eye looked up at him with a burning glare. "You mean, what hasn't?" he huffed, sitting up and hugging his knees to his chest, knuckles white with anger. "I've just come back for a break from boarding school when I find out that Father is hardly ever really allowed into our house any more so I spend even less time with him because of that stupid women. Mother is never happy, she angry or crying most of the time!" he almost shouted, all the while boring holes into the far wall with his glare. "And Mother just found out Father almost got into another duel with that Monroe guy… I thought she was going to explode, she was so angry."

John nodded, he had been disgusted at his old friend when the news came out about the Reynolds Affair. What made matters worse was the way he had told the public before any of his family.

John sort for a way to calm the stressed teen, "This is all part of growing up?" he tried.

The eldest Hamilton child fixed him with a scornful look that he had learn from his father. John sighed, and stood up.

"Ok, I going to say it. Your family is not normal! Nor is it easy but no family is easy! But do you love your Mother?"

Philip looked bewildered, "Of course! Why-"

"Do you love your siblings?"

Philip scowled, "Yes…"

"Do you love your Father?"

Philip bit his lip, hesitantly. "Yes."

John grinned, "There you go! So long as that stays true you have nothing to worry about!"

Philip jumped to his feet, tears starting to leak from his cheeks again. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "But what does that help? Mother doesn't like Father, what I am supposed to do against that?!"

"Love and like are two different things." John said, sagely, "You can love someone deeply yet not like them at times."

John walked over to him, resting his semi solid hands on his shoulders, "And remember, your father was an orphan bastard immigrant and he fought and fought until he could be heard. You can do the same."

Philip sniffed, wiping a hand up his face. He then looked up at John, and smiled gratefully.

"Thank you John. I really needed-"

There were footsteps outside the door as Philip cut off, John nodded, signaling he knew what Philip was going to say.

"Philip, your Father want to see you." John heard Eliza's cold voice.

"Come in Mother."

* * *

***19 years old***

"What are you going?! This is insane!" John yelled as Philip sprinted toward home, heart beating in his ears. "You could die!"

"You said I could be like my father if I tried, don't you remember?" Philip's eyes were alight with determination as he took a sharp turn, ignoring the angry calls coming from behind him.

"This is not what I meant!" John caught up with him as they reached the door to the Hamilton's house. "Please don't do this."

Philip spared him a glance, before hurrying through the door, shouting, "Father! Father?!"

John closed his eyes, grinding his teeth. Why did have to inherit his Father's stubbornness? He hurried after the boy.

By the time he found them, Philip was explaining the situation to Alex.

"-they don't exactly cover this subject in boarding school." Philip finished, looking down at his feet sheepishly while his father watched him thoughtfully.

"Did your friends attempt to negotiate a peace?" he said finally.

John almost choked, Alex could not really be letting his son go through with this, not after hearing all the catastrophes that occurred on a dueling ground

"Alex, are you insane?!" John yelled at his old friend in exasperation, even though he knew his friend could not hear or even see him. "This is your son! You can't really be that reckless!"

Alex was still talking, "- fire your weapon in the air, this will put an end to the whole affair."

"Yes, because he will be DEAD!" John yelled in his oblivious face. Turning to Philip, he pleaded, "Please don't do this, this family has gone through enough, they can't go through another heartbreak! Philip, please!" but for the first time in his life, Philip acted as though he didn't exist.

The whole way to New Jersey, Laurens maintained a constant rally of arguments, pleads to Philip so he would turn around and go home but Philip continued to ignore him, staring straight ahead with a familiar fiery gleam of determination in his eye.

"Philip, don't. Please. It's not worth it."

Philip finally looked him dead in the eye, "I cannot let it slide."

John finally realised how futile it was to argue with him but he continued to try to push him away. "No, no, Philip please!"

"Look him in the eye and no higher," Philip as mumbling, remembering what his father had told him. "Summon all the courage you require, then count:"

"One, two-"

"Philip."

"-Four, five-"

"Please."

"-Seven-"

Bang

"NO!"

* * *

"Philip, hold on you can do this, just a bit longer. Philip, look at me. My eyes, look into my eyes." John murmured to the young man laying on the hard hospital bed. It had been almost half an hour since he had been brought in. Half an a hour in which John continually spoke words of comfort to the youth. His speech was cut up by quiet sobs that wracked his body as, though he dared not to say it out loud, he knew Philip was not going to survive this.

"Wheres Papa?" Philip choked out, blood splattering his teeth.

John stroked a comforting hand down Philip's cheek, "He's coming, don't worry."

"I'm so sorry, John. I'm sorry for everything." another cough interrupted him, more blood splattered.

"Shh, shh, it doesn't matter now. It's ok, I forgive you." John shushed him, running his fingers through Philip's wild hair. "I forgive you."

Laurens heard voices from behind him, -"Lodged in his right arm."

It was the Doctor.

"Can I see him?" Hamilton.

Laurens moved aside to let Philip see his father. He had to turn away as Alex started to sob over his son. He couldn't help but hear what was happening behind him.

"Even before we got to ten," Philip gasped to his father, "I was aiming for the sky."

There was a cry, Eliza had arrived on the scene.

"Is he going to survive this?" she said desperately, "Alexander, did you know?!" she all but yelled in his face.

John saw Philip flinch and the argument, "Mother, I'm so sorry." he rasped.

"Shhh…" She soothed, turn away from her husband to her son.

John stayed with them until the end, one hand on Hamilton and Eliza's shoulders, tears trickling down his face in silence while Eliza wailed in misery.

Hamilton suddenly raised a hand to touch the one Laurens had on his shoulder. John gasped.

"I'm sorry." Hamilton whispered.

* * *

***1804***

Hamilton looked at the sky, feeling the blood flowing from his chest. It was over. He could finally stop. His mouth twitched up into a smile even as he could here Aaron yelling to him, crying. He closed his eyes.

He opened them. There they were. Philip was standing there, looking as though he was 15 again, childish innocence alive in his eyes once more. Standing behind with a wide beam on his face, freckles crinkling across his cheek, still wearing his uniform, was John Laurens

Hamilton stood froze, gasping out smiles. John patted Philip's shoulder and the boy looked up at him for confirmation before galloping forwards and grabbing his father around the waist.

"Papa!" he cried,"I missed you so much!"

Hamilton crouched down, scooping the boy into his arms, laughing out loud with joy. "Philip! My son!" Philip giggled as though he was a young boy again.

"Father, John's been waiting for you." he whispered, suddenly serious, "Go to him."

Hamilton nodded, placing his son back onto the ground and turned to his old friend.

"Um, Hamilton..I-"

But he was cut off as Alex's arms circled his neck and hugged him close, shoulder shaking with either grief or joy, John didn't want to pull away to check. He just clutched his friend close to his chest, never wanting to let go lest he disappear.

"Hamilton. Alex, I missed you."

"And I you, John." he pulled away with a hand on either side of his jaw, to look Laurens directly into his eyes, brushing his thumb over his freckled cheek. "Thank you for looking after my son."

"Your welcome."


End file.
